


When the rain falls, will you remember me?

by Anonymous



Series: Brainrot Groupchat Secret Santa 2020 [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Biting, Hate Sex, Hate to Love, Heyyy it's Anon A :D, Idk what else to tag uhhhhhhhh, Intercrural Sex, Jousting, Knight Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), M/M, Now for the sexy tags, Prince Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Royalty, Same bitch from the casino au that's right, They're just fuckin idk man, Thighs, Very small mention but it's there, hoooooOOOo boy, now for the not sexy tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:02:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28547580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “Your highness,” Clay said, keeping his eyes trained on the carpeting. “Out for a stroll on your own?”“Yes, actually,” Nick snapped back.“Would you mind if I joined you?”
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Brainrot Groupchat Secret Santa 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2091507
Comments: 68
Kudos: 802
Collections: anonymous





	When the rain falls, will you remember me?

**Author's Note:**

> AYYYYYYYYYYYY THIS ONE'S FOR MY BOYSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LOVE YOU GUYS SM FR FR FR
> 
> Uhh warnings for this one, just alcohol mention, and it's really only in one paragraph. Other than that, it's just a good old fashioned hate fuck hahaaaaaaa
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderful tbhyourelame <3 love u kota
> 
> Edit, 1/5/2021: I now have a collection with all the works I've posted under the Anon A alias :D so if you like what I write and want an easy way to follow me, check that out! https://archiveofourown.org/series/2093610

Nick was tired.

One could say he had everything, and he did. He had everything handed to him on a silver platter—he preferred gold, actually, but that was beside the point. He had the best education from the best teachers the king could sway with unprecedented pay, he had clothing made from thread that cost more than most people’s livelihoods, he had the attention of the whole kingdom. They loved their prince, who was bold, kind, and handsome. They cheered for him, and usually all of that satiated Nick.

But at the moment, he was tired, and more importantly, _bored_. And, even more importantly perhaps, _cold_.

The harvest festival was a drag, as always. The air was cold, the only warmth coming from fires, hot wine, and the mingling of bodies. He breathed out, the cold biting his nose and making his breath condense into wisps of white that faded into the air. He flexed his hands, willing his blood to move and warm up his fingertips, which were numb and tingling despite being wrapped in wool and cotton.

Nick shivered in his seat, shifting a little closer to the torch off to the side of his throne; it barely gave off any heat but he could still try. Pulling his cloak tighter around him, he turned his attention back to the entertainment in front of him.

The harvest festival hosted many tournaments, challenges ranging from horse races to archery. There was music and food and drink. Nick would find it cheery if he wasn’t forced to sit still and watch the contests, losing the warmth from walking around. But he _had_ to be there, or whatever. His father and mother were there, too, as he sat by their side, but they were somehow less bothered by the cold.

They were currently overseeing the jousting tournament between knights, the last contest of the day before all were free to wander the market stalls until the sun truly went down and the main bonfire and fireworks would begin. The sun was teetering on the edge of setting, casting a preemptive orange glow on the whole kingdom.

Nick watched as the two knights saddled on their horses charged at each other, horses running like water through the lined paths. The crowd roared as the knights’ horses picked up into a canter, speeding up quickly. The knights leveled their lances, painted with stripes of green and white, and red and black respectively.

“Are you cold, your highness?” A voice to Nick’s side asked. Nick tore his eyes off the match to look at his closest friend and advisor. George was wrapped up well enough himself, with a heavy cloak, gloves, and fur-lined boots. He seemed to be doing fine in the cold, too; curse him. “You seem to be shivering.”

“I’m fuckin’ freezing,” Nick groaned, earning himself a chuckle from George, and a tisk from his father.

“Language, Nicolas. We’re in public, be presentable,” the king said idly, his voice gruff and stern, not taking his eyes off the jousting. Nick grumbled, sinking lower in his seat, tugging his cloak even further around himself.

“I’ll go see if there’s something extra to keep you warm, highness,” George offered. Nick nodded, giving the other man leave. George bowed shallowly, a testament to how close they were, and hurried off to find something warm for the prince.

Nick turned his attention back to the match just in time to see the red knight hit square in the shoulder, the pauldron shield he wore shattering on impact—as it was supposed to. He was knocked to the side, falling off his horse, hitting the ground with the heavy sound of earth and metal that made Nick wince.

The green knight trotted the rest of the way down the lane, pulling back on the reins sharply to slow his horse as he reached the end. The horse reared up, kicking dust into the air with a whinny. Nick watched as the knight stayed firmly on the saddle, holding tight to the reins as pages rushed to pull down the animal and calm it. On the other side, the red knight’s pages were assisting him up. He seemed fine, standing on his own and rolling his shoulder back; that was a direct hit, it would surely leave at least a nasty bruise, even under all that armor. The crowd clapped, cheering as the knights readied for another round.

Now, Nick found jousting _dreadfully_ boring. He had no interest in watching horses run back and forth, while knights occasionally fell off of them. It was repetitive and drab, but it was tradition. He _did_ , however, take interest in the green knight, who had finally gotten his horse under control.

As the announcer rattled off about the current standings, the green knight took a breather. He stripped off his greeves, exposing his hands to the cold air. Taking his bare hands to his helmet, he also pulled that off, and Nick just _stared_. Blond hair clung to the sides of his face with sweat and condensation. His breathing was heavy, indicated by the hot puffs of air creating clouds in front of his face. He shook his head, making a halo of gold, following through with a hand raking long bangs out of his face. Nick just continued to stare.

And then the knight turned, and he stared back.

The prince sneered. Suddenly, he had an interest in jousting, for no other reason than because he wanted to see this green bastard knocked _flat_ on his _ass_.

Nick and Clay had never had the best of relationships. The prince was, well, the prince, and the knight was the son of the head of the royal guard. That meant, for their whole childhoods, they were stuck suffering with the knowledge that one day, it would be Clay’s only sworn duty to protect Nick with his life. Which was a _massive pain in the ass_ considering they _hated_ each other.

Nick was constantly and consistently unimpressed with everything Clay did, from his training to his brash nature. Nick recalls purposefully rolling his eyes to annoy the other boy when Clay looked at him in defiance after winning his first sparring competition back when he was just a page. Neither of them was sure where it had started, to be completely honest, they had just always been at each other’s throats.

Their fathers got along fine enough, with the head knight doing his job well and the king appreciating his loyalty and sacrifice. Nick and Clay, however, despised the thought of being bound to each other. Nick had always turned up his nose at the other man, and Clay had always retaliated back by being the best at _everything_ , like his ego needed to be fueled more.

_Bastard_ , Nick thought hard, directing the word at Clay through a glare. The blond sighed, shaking his head and turning his attention to one of his pages; a young boy Nick had met just once, Tommy, who was unfortunately unforgettable. The page held up the end of a lance for Clay to take, and after replacing his helmet and greeves he grabbed it, hefting it up to rest on his shoulder as he led his stupid, pretty, white horse around to line up for another charge.

The red knight, Darryl, had re-taken his position on his own horse, looking only slightly worse for wear, perhaps a bit shaken up. But he also held his lance high, ready for another round. Nick silently prayed for Darryl to land a good hit. He couldn’t show outward bias, seeing as he was a neutral party—the _prince_ —but _good Lord,_ Nick wanted to see Clay knocked off his high horse, literally.

Nick was drawn out of his bitter thoughts by George returning with a folded cloak and a goblet of mulled wine, which Nick caught the smell of and immediately reached out his hands for, craving the warmth and cinnamon. George smiled, passing the cloak to Nick first, who draped it over the one he already wore and then handed the prince his drink.

“Thank you,” Nick mumbled in quick appreciation before taking a large drink of the spiced alcohol, feeling it immediately in his lips and hands. It settled happily in his gut, spreading a homey warmth through him. George bowed lightly again, saying a public and practiced, _of course, highness._ Nick insisted George never call him that in private, they were friends after all, but with his parents by his side and a crowd around them, it was needed.

Nick, much happier and much less cold, returned his attention yet again to the jousting. He grinned as he saw Darryl’s lance strike Clay dead-on in the shoulder, a wonderful mirrored retaliation. Clay, similar to Darryl, was knocked roughly off his horse, but this time Nick only hummed and took another drink of his wine when the knight hit the ground.

That tied them up in points. Nick watched with bated breath as their last round began, thoroughly disappointed when, once again, Darryl was struck and fell beside his horse. He only grumbled, begrudgingly clapping for the green knight who did a lap around the arena in victory, waving to the crowd. He slowed his horse when he returned to the jousting lines, offering a good-mannered hand to Darryl, who had picked himself up. Darryl clasped the other knight’s hand, the two of them shaking, surely wishing each other the best in the rest of the tournament; chivalry and all that.

Nick felt his attention waver as the competition continued; knights charging, falling, cycling out, losing, and winning. The colors changed, as did the horses, but the actions never varied, as much as the announcer would like to say they had different strategies Nick could never see any of them.

The sun sank lower, and the cold crept further in. George had fetched Nick his second cup of mulled wine, making the prince feel warm and at this point a little buzzed, which didn’t help his attention at all. He sniffed, feeling the cold the most in his nose and fingers still.

The tournament was drawing to an end, at least, with only the finals left, and soon enough everyone would pick up and leave, moving to where the last hurrah of the festival would be, at the bonfire before they all went home for wonderful, hot dinners; it would be warmer by the fire, so Nick looked forward to that to keep himself happy.

Even so, that promise to himself didn’t keep his spirits high when Clay returned to the pitch. The green knight was facing off against Techno, another knight of high caliber. They had a little rivalry going, so at least Nick had someone to root against Clay with.

The rounds began, with Clay’s white horse a streak in the dimming light, and Techno’s a black blur. Nick nearly stood up out of his seat with a cheer when Techno struck Clay, but refrained himself from doing so, just barely. He simply smirked, watching with newfound attentiveness as Clay struggled to stand, patting dirt off of his armor.

Another round, this one ending with Clay getting a hit on Techno, but not knocking him off the horse. It did, however, break his pauldron shield, catching Clay an extra point. Nick cursed under his breath the next round after, when Clay did actually manage to knock Techno off. That put Clay ahead, but it was still anyone’s game.

“You seem tense,” George noted, picking up on Nick’s sudden interest in the tournament.

“Do I?” Nick said airily. He was gripping the armrests of his throne tightly, his eyes trained on the knights in the arena below. George hummed but didn’t say anything more.

Nick once again nearly jumped up when Techno managed to scrape another hit on Clay, and then the next go around after that he shattered the green knight’s pauldron shield. Nick bit his lip, waiting and watching to see the blond fail; he lived for it.

Unfortunately, Clay managed to knock Techno off his horse once again. Less unfortunate, Techno managed to retaliate by doing the same, scoring him the win. Nick’s lips curled into a grin, and he clapped a bit more vigorously with the crowd this time.

The king stood, walking to the railing to deliver a speech to the winner, as well as his competitors. Techno removed his helmet and rode to wait under the stage, his horse kicking idly at the ground. Clay, after picking himself up, did similar, getting back on his horse and riding to the stage, pulling his steed to a halt next to Techno, who didn’t spare him a glance.

The king cleared his throat, starting a speech, thanking the citizens of the kingdom for coming to the festival, congratulating Techno on his win, Clay on his running-up, and the rest of the knights on their valiant efforts. Nick didn’t pay attention to the speech, though, as he was currently more entranced by Clay staring at him again. _Rather rude, while the king is talking_ , Nick thought but didn’t pull his eyes away from the other man’s sharp green. He felt a chill down his spine, for once not from the cold.

-

The festival was a grand success, raising the spirits of many in the cold, winter months. Nick was glad for it to be over, though, much more pleased to spend the season indoors, near a fire. He had a break from lessons as well, for the holidays, which was another boost to his mood. He spent most of his time with George, talking or reading together, occasionally they would ask a court musician to entertain them for a while. Floris was a favorite of theirs, and so most of their lounging took place in the hall with a grand piano, listening to the dutchman rattle off Bach and Corelli with practiced hands.

On occasion, they would take strolls around the castle; they used to take great pleasure in walks around the gardens, but with the grass covered in ice and snow and the flowers wilted for the season it was nothing much to look at, and not pleasant to be outside for too long. Today, however, George sadly had other matters to attend to, a meeting with other advisors that Nick would hear about later. It was only disappointing that Nick was walking around on his own that day.

It was even more disappointing who he bumped into.

Nick spotted him, Clay, at the end of the hall as he turned a corner, and pulled a face. He nearly turned right back around, abandoning this hallway and going back from where he came, but unfortunately, he had already been spotted by the blond. Nick grit his teeth, pushing forward, nearly groaning out loud when Clay offered him a bow as he grew closer. Nick really wanted to just walk past him, but he was obligated to at least acknowledge the other man’s existence now, sadly.

“Your highness,” Clay said, keeping his eyes trained on the carpeting. Oh, _now_ he was respectful. “Out for a stroll on your own?”

“Yes, actually,” Nick snapped back, bitter Clay had pointed out his lack of companion for the day.

“Would you mind if I joined you?” The knight proposed, catching Nick entirely off guard.

“What? _Why?_ ” Nick sputtered. He did his best to steel himself again, being so suddenly flustered— _angry, Nick reminded himself, not flustered_ —as the thought of the knight just walking alongside him was insufferable.

“I’m simply heading the same way you are, highness, it would only be sensible,” Clay continued. Nick scowled.

“Well, if only because you’re already going this way,” he said begrudgingly. 

Clay smiled, falling into step shortly behind the prince as they continued down the otherwise empty corridor. _God_ , this hallway was long, Nick bemoaned in his head. He could hear the gentle footfalls of the other man behind him; they set him on edge.

“How has the cold season been treating you, highness?” Clay asked, obviously wholly innocent in his intentions, but it still made Nick prickle.

“Fine, thanks,” Nick said sharply. “Don’t speak to me.”

“Of course, your highness,” Clay hummed. Nick’s lips twitched up. He _did_ like having that sort of power over people. _Especially_ over Clay. The knight thought he was better than everyone, and what annoyed Nick to no end was the fact that he mostly _was_. But Nick was still above him, could still order him to shut up and the knight would have to dutifully follow the order. Maybe it was a bit of a power trip, yes, but that didn’t really matter to Nick in the end.

Clay was so infuriating, in every way Nick could possibly think of. He was loud, he was _annoyingly_ pretty—though Nick would never say _that_ out loud. When they were younger, Clay would purposefully ignore the prince’s orders, on the president that he was older than the royal boy. That had earned him an earful from his father, however, and he’d been, albeit begrudgingly, much more obedient since then. Aside from the occasional instance, where he felt like he was still above the prince, daring to defy chivalry just to piss him off. Like when he’d bow a little more shallow, or like when he _stared_ at Nick during the harvest festival…

Nick refused to think too long about it, about how Clay, hot, tired, sweaty, had looked up at him from down in the arena, daring the prince to think lowly of him. Nick refused to linger on the memory of matted golden hair, ruffled by a shake, or how he had locked eyes with Clay’s forest green during his father’s speech. _Ugh_ , just the reminder of that day made Nick’s skin prickle, chills creeping down his arms. He shuddered, and could—annoyingly—feel Clay’s eyes on his back. He felt a strange mix of butterflies and bitters in the back of his throat, painfully aware he was under the other man’s gaze.

“On second thought, talk with me,” Nick swallowed the odd taste in his mouth. “The harvest festival; you did well in the jousting tournament. You lost there at the end though, didn’t you, hmm?”

“Yes, highness,” Clay said, his tone stiff. Nick smirked.

“I just thought it was funny. You and Techno have your little opposition, and seeing you two in the finals of the tournament against each other was a treat. You didn’t seem too happy when you lost,” Nick hummed. He heard Clay breathe out a steady, controlled breath behind him.

“Sir Techno is an... adequate opponent,” Clay said, his words clipped, obviously keeping himself from saying something awful about the other knight. “He earns his victories well.”

“And you take your losses poorly,” Nick mused, pushing further into the open wound. “Seeing as you’re still obviously bitter over the whole thing. Wasn’t that a couple of weeks ago now?”

Nick ignored the fact that he had also been thinking of that day despite the weeks passing, albeit for different reasons.

“I…” Clay started, fishing for words. When he found none, he closed his mouth, making a disdained noise, one that filled Nick with self-satisfaction. He continued to press.

“It was amusing; your ego outgrows you sometimes. A loss helps cut that back into shape.”

“Does your highness take pleasure in ridiculing others?” Clay questioned, making Nick laugh.

“Just you,” Nick admitted.

“Well, then I’m honored,” Clay said dryly, drawing another chuckle from the prince.

“As I said, it only helps keep your pride well cropped, which is necessary I think,” Nick could feel Clay’s gaze shift into a glare, burning a hole in the back of the prince’s head. Good, he needed some entertainment today. “Son of the head guard, you’re always the best at everything aren’t you? Good to keep in mind that you actually aren’t. You at the very least only fall in the shadow of your father; you’ll take his place someday but honestly, I doubt you’ll be able to fill the role.”

Nick jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. The grip was tight, making him gasp as he was pushed into the wall, his back hitting the stone of an alcove between two pillars.

“I had higher expectations for your highness’ etiquette,” Clay growled. Nick felt his stomach drop. Clay held him against the wall, one hand on the prince’s shoulder, the other firmly planted on the stone by his head, caging him in. “Tormenting your guard isn’t a _respectable_ pastime.”

“Oh.” Nick refused to acknowledge his heart beating up into his throat, instead steeling himself, forcing himself to meet Clay’s eyes. They were so green; dark and angry. “Tormenting? Is what I say really affecting you that badly?”

Clay didn’t say anything, his eyes just narrowed. Nick felt cornered, as he actually was physically, but mentally he was having another battle. On the one hand, he wanted to slap Clay’s grip off his shoulder, march straight to his father, and tattle on the knight’s poor behavior towards him. On the other hand, Clay’s grasp was strong, and Nick didn’t particularly mind it. If anything, his thoughts jumped to how bruises in the shape of the knight’s fingertips would look. He shuddered, which Clay took note of, his demeanor shifting. The air between them thickened, strangling with frustration and tension of another kind.

“I could get you punished for this,” Nick said, his voice barely above a whisper. It didn’t have to be loud, seeing as Clay’s face was right next to his. The knight made a low noise in the back of his throat, almost animalistic.

“What for?” Clay regarded the prince with dirty, knowing eyes.

“An aggressive advance,” Nick breathed, taking note of how the knight’s eyes tracked his throat as it moved. “Touching me without permission. Could be treason, or something. Continue and we could find out.”

“With all due respect, highness,” Clay purred darkly, “shut your pretty fucking mouth.”

“Make me,” Nick said, almost on instinct. Clay’s lips twitched up into a sneer, and then he surged forward. Their teeth met in an angry kiss, making Nick groan at the pain. Clay bit his lip, hard, Nick’s groan fading into a whimper, keening when Clay’s hand shifted from his shoulder to the hollow of his neck.

The kiss continued, rough and desperate. Neither of them had acknowledged this side of the tension they held, not openly at least, and _fuck_ was it a rush to have it finally come to fruition. Years of petty fighting building up to the moment when they cracked and Clay kitten-licked his way into Nick’s mouth.

Nick took heavy breaths through his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. Clay led the kiss, tilting his head to the side to deepen it more. Nick was caught between melting into it and biting down _hard_ on Clay’s tongue just for the reaction it would draw from the other man. But before he could do anything, Clay broke away, leaving them both breathing hard, hot air caught between them.

“Christ, what would your father think,” Clay’s voice was raw and low. He thumbed over Nick’s Adam’s apple with his hand, humming when it bobbed with the prince’s ragged breathing. “The prince being a filthy whore, getting turned on in a public corridor just from being pushed against a wall. How low, how _unbecoming_ of you.”

He lent back down and cut off any words Nick had on his tongue with another rough kiss. This time, Nick’s hands came up from where they were flattened against the wall, carding in golden waves. When Clay nipped at his lip again, Nick pulled at the ends of the knight’s hair, delighted when it drew a heady moan from the taller man. Nick swallowed the noise happily, gripping tighter to the knight’s blond locks.

Clay seemed to enjoy the advance, pushing a thigh in between Nick’s, grinding against the prince’s hip. _Oh_ , Nick shivered, he could feel Clay’s dick hardening between the layers of clothing separating them. _Fuck, this was really happening, huh?_ Nick whimpered against Clay’s lips when the knight ground up with his leg. Nick’s thighs snapped to squeeze Clay’s between them, his hips stuttering up to chase friction against his own quickly growing arousal.

They ground against each other, groaning against each other’s lips. Clay’s hand was still steady over the prince’s throat, his other hand snaked down, brushing over the shorter man’s waist. It settled on his hip, a sudden rough grip pushing Nick’s hips back against the wall, stopping him from bucking them desperately for friction. Clay pulled out of their kiss, just barely. Their lips were still brushing.

“What if we got caught here?” Clay mused, giving a light kiss to Nick’s bottom lip. Nick chased another kiss, but Clay only chuckled, pulling away just enough to leave the prince desperate. “Anyone could walk through and see you like this.”

The thought played in Nick’s head for a lot longer than he’d ever want to admit. The thought of being found out, of being told on, of having rumors passed around the castle; the prince was his knight’s desperate whore, couldn’t even wait long enough to get out of a public hallway to be touched.

Clay didn’t help his imagination, trailing his mouth down to kiss the prince’s neck instead. Nick jumped in place with a squeak when Clay’s teeth caught his skin, gently nibbling the sensitive area. It wouldn’t leave marks, but Lord, did Nick almost want it to, especially as Clay moved his hand to shove the collar of Nick’s shirt to the side so he could reach more tanned skin.

“We should move,” Nick managed to choke out, though his will to break Clay away from him even for a moment wavered as the blond nipped against the junction between his neck and shoulder. “My bedroom.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Clay hummed. “My quarters wouldn’t be up to your highness’ standards.”

Nick scoffed and was disappointed when Clay moved away from him, but they had to move. As much as the fantasy of being caught was tempting, the reality would be less than ideal. They both straightened up, fixing their clothes so they looked at least semi-presentable if they were to run into someone. They weren’t able to hide their hard-ons particularly well in loose, casual clothing, so they could only hope they weren’t intercepted on their way.

Nick took Clay’s wrist in his hand, tugging the knight along behind him, leading them to the prince’s room. They were— _thankfully_ —able to make it to Nick’s room without running into anybody else. Nick jammed open the door, dragging the knight inside. While he still had the blond at the whim of being tugged along by the wrist, he grinned, turning around, crowding Clay back up against the door. It was _his_ turn.

Before Clay could protest to the swap in position, Nick met his lips in another rushed kiss. He hungrily delved deeper, eating up the frustrated noise Clay made against him. Nick’s hands flew up to the knight’s hair again, tugging sharply in a way that made Clay keen and relinquish a bit more control to Nick. It didn’t last too long, though, as Nick got cocky with his advance, deepening the kiss and daring to move one of his hands off the blond’s hair, instead moving it to his hip. Nick trailed his fingers along the hem of the knight’s pants, finding and fidgeting with the tie.

Clay responded with a bite to Nick’s tongue—nothing that actually hurt, just something that made the prince jump and pull back. He was only met with a wicked smirk as Clay’s hands moved to hold Nick’s hips, pushing him backward until the backs of his knees hit the edge of his bed.

The comforter was plush and caved around the prince as he was pushed backward, only to be straddled once he was sitting comfortably on the bed. Clay went back to kissing him, with one hand returning to idly rest on the prince’s neck, thumbing almost teasingly along where his carotid pumped hot, rushing blood under his skin. Nick groaned at even the light touch; he wished the knight would press down, squeeze calloused fingers into his skin in a way that made the prince choke and gasp.

Their mouths moved together, Clay once again taking over the kiss. They moved hurriedly, like they were running out of time. It wasn’t long until between the kisses and breathy breaks for air they started clawing at the clothing separating them. Clay got to the buttons on Nick’s vest first, prying off the garment with little care for how much it surely cost. He got to the prince’s shirt next, stripping it off in a similar hurried fashion.

Nick, upset that he was now half-naked while Clay remained fully clothed, fumbled at the knight’s shirt. Once it was removed his hands roamed over the knight’s strong chest. As much as he belittled Clay, the man was a _strong_ and talented knight. His muscles were well defined, strapped under his skin, and while the prince wasn’t out of shape himself, Clay was definitely stronger. Hours upon hours, _years_ of tournaments, training, and rigorous exercise left the knight with a well-earned force behind his grip. A grip that, post discarding some of the prince’s clothing, smoothed down his sides, settling rough hands on Nick’s waist, now skin to skin.

Clay grabbed _hard_ onto tanned flesh, making Nick moan aloud again. Clay smirked against Nick’s lips as his hands traveled, exploring warm, open skin with fervor. His hands eventually drew to the front of Nick’s trousers, fingers playing with the drawstring before tugging the bow apart seamlessly. The garments went loose around the prince’s hips, and Clay gently tugged them and his underwear down the prince’s thighs. Nick shifted hesitantly to help Clay slip off the rest of his clothing, embarrassed to be the first one fully undressed.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Clay mumbled as his eyes raked over the fully bare prince, a stray thought that found its way out of the knight's mouth without permission. Nick laughed at the statement.

“You’re only fueling my ego,” Nick mused, another snicker escaping him as Clay scowled.

“You’re prettier when your mouth stays shut,” Clay grumbled halfheartedly. Nick bit back another laugh with a mock offended gasp.

“Well then, busy it with something else, hmm?” Nick only smiled when the knight rolled his eyes but happily melted into another rough kiss when Clay leaned forward.

The knight’s hands returned to his hips, shuffling Nick back on the bed so they weren’t sitting on the edge. They shifted into a better position, and Nick would never admit it out loud but Clay being a tad rough, manhandling him with a steady grip on his waist… it did something to him, sent a shiver down his back.

Once Nick was laying pretty on his bed, settled comfortably against the pillows by the headrest, Clay’s hands wandered again. They traced gently up smooth skin, large and warm, brushing against Nick’s ribs. Then they wandered down, resting on the prince’s thighs, where they gripped tightly once again, squeezing warm handfuls of skin between his fingers. 

Nick sighed against Clay’s lips; the way the knight was being careful with him, holding him hard enough to keep the prince in place but not enough to leave bruises even though with the strength in his hands he absolutely could, easily… Nick _wanted_ him to leave bruises. Clay moved back a little, breaking the prince out of his fantasy of being dappled in purple fingerprints.

“Do you have lube?” The knight asked. An innocuous enough question. A kind one, even. But a question that nonetheless made a pit settle in Nick’s stomach. Something twisted, and he made a face.

“I-I don’t—,” Nick stammered. He made a frustrated noise, willing himself to speak, no matter how embarrassing it was to say aloud. He had never done _this_ before, not with another man at least. And while he wanted this to continue, wanted to go further, the prospect of actual penetration wasn’t in his cards, not this time. “I don’t want— I don’t want you… _in_ me.”

“Oh,” Clay didn’t seem disappointed at all, simply understanding. Just because this was an angry, _in the moment_ fuck fueled by confusing emotions didn’t mean he had to be a complete dick. He backed a little further away from Nick, giving the prince some breathing room, which was greatly appreciated. “That’s alright, there are other ways to get off, anyway.”

“Right,” Nick chuckled. He genuinely appreciated the knight being considerate. Nick wanted this, he just…didn’t want _that_ , not tonight. “Maybe some other time?”

“Some other time?” Clay mused, easily slipping back into the flow of things, which again, Nick very much appreciated. “Implying this isn’t just a one-time thing?”

“If you want,” Nick offered. Clay grinned, leaning forward again until their noses bumped together, a moment of tenderness between them.

“I very much want,” Clay mumbled against Nick’s lips, the prince taking the initiative to press into the kiss. They melted, molding together once again. Clay adjusted his grip on Nick’s thighs dragging the other man somehow closer. Their chests touched, their whole bodies from their lips to their collarbones to their thighs pressed together. Nick was left with a lazy smile on his lips when Clay backed away again, his hands momentarily leaving the prince to drift to his own pants. He made quick work of them, discarding them somewhere with the rest of their clothes.

Nick marveled at the knight’s body, having only a moment to appreciate strong thighs sprinkled with sun-kissed freckles before Clay leaned down again. His hands went back to the prince’s hips, kneading his thumbs against the raised bone creating an arch in golden skin. Clay purposefully missed the prince’s lips, his mouth traveling across Nick’s jaw, peppering light kisses along it. He left a path of kisses and light nips as he trailed down Nick’s neck, humming quietly.

“I have an idea if you’d humor it,” Clay murmured. His voice was low and gravely, purring vibrations against the prince’s neck.

“Shoot,” Nick breathed out. He was just desperate for touch at this point, for _some_ sort of friction. Any idea Clay had he would at least consider. Now that they were both unclothed, and Clay was settled between his legs, all Nick could think about was his straining need, his cock lying hard and now dripping pre-cum on his stomach despite not being touched at all.

“I’d like to fuck your thighs,” Clay admitted, blunt and vulgar. The hands on Nick’s hips traveled back to hold his thighs as if to punctuate the knight’s point.

“That sounds… good.” Nick was admittedly much more into the idea than he ever thought he’d be. He licked his lips, already taken up by the thought of Clay holding his legs together, his thighs flush to rut against, still using his body to get off. “ _Yeah,_ that’s good.”

They shuffled to get into a better position. Clay once again manhandled Nick into a pose he saw fit, twisting the prince’s hips to the side so he was still laying on his back but his thighs were together, his knees pointed to the side. Clay gripped the thigh on top with one hand, holding it down so they were flush together.

Spitting unceremoniously into his palm, Clay quickly stroked himself over a few times, making his length slick between spit and pre-cum. Nick watched shamelessly, chewing on his bottom lip at the sight. Clay’s cock was impressive, as was the rest of his body. The knight was a lovely specimen that Nick eyed up with interest, his attention caught by a rumbling laugh from the knight.

“See something you like?” Clay raised an eyebrow, amused by the prince’s eyes raking over him.

“Maybe,” Nick said curtly, an obvious _yes_ he refused to say outright.

“Now you’re just fanning _my_ ego.” The knight smiled. Nick scoffed and Clay laughed again. “You flatter me, highness.”

“Whatever,” the prince said dismissively. He wasn’t going to feed Clay’s conceit any more than he already had, even if he _did_ think the knight was a mortal in a god’s body. He’d keep that thought to himself, because though that was the case, Clay was an _annoying_ mortal, at that. Nick had to put _some_ reins on the knight or it’d all go to the blond’s head.

Clay hummed thoughtfully, still amused. He recognized both of their want to continue ahead, however, and pushed aside more banter in favor of moving to Nick’s thighs. He held the base of his cock, gingerly pushing it between the prince’s thighs. Clay held Nick’s thighs down with a heavy hand, creating a smooth, if not a little dry wall of plush skin for him to rut against. He sighed, the slide in between the prince’s legs a delicate friction that sent sparks shooting through both of them.

The knight had a ridiculous amount of self-control, keeping himself at a steady pace at first. He swallowed thickly around the air, breathing slowly out. He tested the waters, gently rocking his hips. The movement was followed by a shudder and a poorly muffled groan. Nick could only watch as the knight shook, the prince’s lavish thighs alone enough to unravel him.

Clay came apart slowly, gently thrusting a few more times, gasping with the motion, heat and a dark flush creeping ever further across his skin. Nick had to admit, he was almost amused.

“Kind of pathetic,” he teased. Immediately met by a glare, he only smirked and continued, “you’re just rutting against me like a horny dog. Is this all you need to get off? Are you that easy?”

“Shut _up_ ,” Clay growled, one hand dropping from Nick’s thigh to his own neglected cock. The prince inhaled sharply, the action successfully and promptly shutting him up.

He couldn’t help the embarrassing moan that came with the slide of Clay between his thighs coupled with the warm, strong hand on him. Clay’s hands were large, calloused, and scarred. The drag along the prince’s feverish skin made him shake, arching into the touch. He couldn’t move too much, what with the position he was in, his legs still being clamped down by Clay’s other hand, but he still pushed up into the knight’s grasp, begging with a thrust up and a whine for Clay to do more than just hold him.

Clay was kind and began stroking the prince at a languid pace, matching the time of his careful thrusts, still holding himself back, although his will to do so waned. He slowly ramped up, his back bowing as the drag of skin on skin washed waves of pleasure over him. Giving in finally he leaned down, burying his face in the prince’s neck, his teeth latching onto the soft spot just under his jaw. Nick moaned, unbothered by the thought of Clay leaving marks. If people questioned them, so be it, his wish for bruises was finally being fulfilled.

Clay panted, hot breath ghosting across Nick's already burning skin. His thrusts were shallow, sharp, and as his control wavered they became more desperate. The slide between Nick's thighs was getting slicker as more precum was drawn out of him, and Clay reveled in the thought of how it might feel to actually be inside of the prince. Hitched on that promise of a next time, he was spurred on. The nauseating sound of skin on skin mingled with quiet gasps and low moans in the air. Clay muffled a groan into the prince’s neck, biting down hard enough to make the prince think airily about how long the marks of his teeth would last.

Nick bit down on his bottom lip, keening as the knight’s hand sped up with his more sporadic thrusts. The heat in his stomach and spread across his skin was almost unbearable, his cheeks burning a bright red that was painted all the way down his neck at this point. He gasped at a particularly rough upstroke, his hips bucking into Clay’s hand as the knight cruelly thumbed over the head of the prince’s cock. 

Nick came with a choked up moan, spilling cum over the knight’s hand. Nick shuddered as Clay stroked him through his high, sobbing when even after the pleasant glow faded the knight continued, stretching out the pleasure into a round of too-sensitive shocks that wracked the prince’s already trembling body. Thankfully Clay let up, leaving the prince panting and shivering.

Clay came not too long after with a low groan when Nick squeezed his thighs together even tighter, Clay’s thrusts stuttering as he fought to keep the friction going to pull him through his orgasm. Nick whimpered when Clay's fingers dug harshly into the meat of his thighs as the blond's mind glazed over for a moment. Clay continued rocking his hips until the drag of Nick's skin against his spent, sensitive cock was too much to take.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Clay gasped, finally stilling. He was panting hard, heaving breaths that made the muscles in his chest and back look absolutely divine from where Nick was laying. Were Nick in a better, less tired headspace, he would have spent his time littering strong, golden skin with bites to match his own. Maybe that would come with the _next time_ he had promised the knight.

Clay pulled out from between Nick’s thighs, shuddering as he was left still sensitive in the open air. Clay sat back on his calves and Nick let his legs finally fall slack, his thighs aching from the tension of being pressed together for so long. He spread them gently, idly groaning at the sight of tanned skin covered in cum. It trailed across his thighs, up to his navel, and across his stomach, his and Clay’s essence a disasterful pattern across his body. It was hot, honestly, but would get less so if he thought about it for too long.

“God, you’re a mess,” Clay noted fondly, still breathless, taking account of Nick’s state as well as his own. The prince groaned, closing his legs again and rolling onto his side just to spite the other man.

“Whose fault is that?” Nick bit back, though the edge and malice in his tone had been all but fucked out. Clay chuckled lightly.

“Both of ours, I suppose,” the knight mused, much to the prince’s chagrin. 

“I want to take a bath, I’m gross,” Nick complained loudly, hapless. “But I’m tired; _that’s_ your fault.”

Clay rolled his eyes, but the motion was fond. He raked his clean hand through sweaty hair, settling back on the bed in a more comfortable position, sitting with his legs crossed in front of him.

“Would you like me to run you a bath, highness?” Clay asked teasingly. “I can even carry you there if you’re feeling extra fussy.”

Nick made an abhorred noise, which Clay laughed at. But, that _did_ sound like a genuine offer, however teasing it was, and Nick was happy to take him up on that. The thought of resting comfortably against the knight’s broad chest in warm water was indeed tempting.

“Will you sit in there with me?” Nick asked, wishing to indulge in the fantasy, and Clay chuckled again.

“If that’s what your highness wants,” The knight nodded his head in a mockery of a bow. Horribly disrespectful if they were in any other situation than they were now. At the moment, post-sex, Nick could not have given less of a fuck if Clay kept up his chivalry or not.

“Well I think it’s only fair you be there to help clean up the mess you made, asshole,” Nick picked up one of his legs, making a half-hearted prod at the knight with his heel. Clay caught him by the ankle, a stupidly fond, tired smile on his face. He dragged Nick closer by the grip on his ankle, making the prince let out an undistinguished noise. He didn’t complain at all, however, when the knight leaned down, sealing the prince’s lips with a chaste kiss.

“Of course,” Clay murmured against the prince; the kiss soft, his tone softer. “As you wish.”

**Author's Note:**

> COMMENT MODERATION IS ON!!! IF YOU DON'T WANT YOUR COMMENT TO BE MADE PUBLIC JUST LMK :D
> 
> Tysm for reading!!!
> 
> -Anon A <3


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